Well the winner by a good margin was option number two with 35% of the vote, and the close runner up was option four with 27%, so why not combine them both together, right? So, WARNING: BESTIALITY AHEAD is what I’m trying to say.
“Well come on o’er here, Mick, ‘n let me git a good look at ya,” Dale said, waving the farmer over to where he was standing next to Bishop, or Piggy as he knew himself know, still helplessly chowing down on slop from the trough, horrified that someone had found him in this position.
“I don’–who the hell are you?” Mick asked, “How’d ya…know my name?” he walked over, not even aware that he was doing so until he was a few feet away from Dale–and he looked over his shoulder at where his shotgun was lying back by the barn entrance. “Yer on mah property, I want ya off.”
“Oh, we ain’t trespassin’, Master Mick–yer the one who invited us, after all. Piggy here wanted tah be yer new pigslave, ‘n we’re tryin’ him out, tah see if he’s good enough fer yer sty, ain’t that right?”
Mick’s mind was simple, and Dale found it rather…thrilling, how he could rewire the man’s head at to his merest whim. The farmer was a gentle guy, easy going–he had a shotgun, sure, but he’d never be able to really use it on anyone. No–he’d been more scared than anything, when he’d heard the noises in his barn, coming back from getting his hogs bedded down for the evening. So Dale started hardening him, giving him edges, cruel and abusive instincts, sadistic desires, and filling his mind with all sort of pervere, twisted fantasies. He resisted a bit, but the old Mick couldn’t stand for more than a moment against Dale’s mental onslaught, and when Mick looked down at Bishop again–it was hunger and lust and anger in his eyes that show through, as he kicked his new slave in the gut, yelling at him to eat faster, that he’ll never manage to be his pigslave with a sorry appetite like that. Mick started inspecting him then, unhappy with his scrawny the pig was, but he could fatten him up, if the thing had the spirit to handle him.
Dale crouched down next to Bishop’s face in the trough, and watched his brother plead with him for a moment, but he was already rewiring him as well. After all, this is what Bishop had wanted, right? Yeah, a master, a farmer, someone who could really help him become the pig he knew was deep inside him, that he’d always felt in there, that he’d always wanted to be. He wanted to be abused, humiliated, raped even, if that’s what it took, and even though these desires made him feel so ashamed, his cock was hard as a rock when Mick ran two dirty fingers down his crack and gave the piggy’s cunt a test–and Dale had an idea, or rather, Mick had his idea a moment later.
“I’m on the fence ‘bout it,” Mick said, “Could be a good ‘un, but I ain’t sure it really wants it. One way tah find out fer sure though. Get the hog’s hole warmed up fer a bit man, ‘n I’ll be back in a few.”
“Heh, ya heard the boss,” Dale said, unzipping his fly and dropping his pants, hefting his huge gut onto the small of Bishop’s back and shoving his rock hard cock in dry. Bishop groaned in pain, and Dale gave him a slap on the ass. “Don’t be worried ‘bout this, bro, be worried ‘bout who yer new master’s bringin’ back wit’ ‘em.”
Bishop had no idea what Dale might be referring to, until Mick returned with his prize winning boar leashed up. “Best way tah see if it’s got what it takes, is tah give it a taste a the real thing.”
“Sounds like a plan tah me!” Dale said, and made room for the boar. He gave the animal a mental prod, encouraging it on to mount Bishop, who cried out when he realized what was about to happen with him…but he wanted this. No, he didn’t want this, whatever his brother was doing to him he…he’d always thought about this, about being mounted like an animal, by an animal. A squeal escaped his mouth as the boar slid inside him, and the excitement of his fantasies coming true–his cock exploded all over the ground beneath him as he rutted with the boar, Mick letting out a laugh. “Hot damn, this thing ain’t a pig, it’s a god damn sow! Heh, bet we’d make some real nice progress if we went ‘n nutted the damn thing–then it’d put some wait on her hips real fast.”
“Well, I suppose that’s up to you, Master Mick-it’s your piggy now.”
“Heh–the leather daddies back in the big city ‘r gonna go fuckin’ nuts over it at the convention next year, I’ll tell ya that!”
“Well Bishop,” Dale said, “I think yer in perfectly capable hands now–maybe I’ll come check in on ya tahmorrow, ‘n see how yer comin’ along.”
Bishop tried to beg, tried to plead, but all he could do was oink and squeal and debase himself as the boar came to climax inside him, and his master shoved the animal to the side and took it’s place, raping his new pig’s sloppy pussy as rough and hard as the boar who’d just been inside him. Dale watched a moment, and then left the barn, satisfied–to an extent.
“Damn, Dale, that’s pretty fuckin’ twisted,” a familiar voice said behind him. He turned, and the stranger appeared out of the dark, smoking a cigar.
“Fucker deserved it.”
The stranger didn’t say anything, just let a stream of smoke into the evening air. “Well, ya still got plenty a time left–who else ya wanna get some revenge on, while ya got the chance?”
I’m not sure if we’ll revisit Bishop here or not–his story line seems to have wrapped itself up pretty well. Still, I’m sure a guy like Dale has a few other grudges he could take on, right?
- His father–he’ll need some way to occupy himself now that both of his son’s are out of the house.
- His bully from high school who still lives in town–he could use a few lessons in punishment.
- A couple of Bishops friends–he’s sure to find them at George’s bar tonight, and he never did get to finish that drink with them.
- The stranger himself–try and take control of him. It’s risky and might fail, but he’ll never know unless he tries, right?
So, who do you want Dale to target next?
Bracken's Corner 